Chapter 3

I went to Mark Thorne' s office the next morning.

"Mark, I need to withdraw from the Devil's Gulch survey," I said, keeping my voice steady.

He leaned back in his chair, all smiles and superficial concern.

"Withdraw, Sarah? But it's a key part of your internship. Mandatory, remember? Good for your final evaluation."

His eyes, however, were cold. Calculating.

"I'm not feeling well," I lied. "Something I ate, maybe."

"A tough girl like you? I'm sure you'll be fine by Thanksgiving. Besides," he added, his voice dropping slightly, "it wouldn't look good for your record if you backed out of a mandatory assignment. We need team players here, Sarah."

A subtle threat. My internship, my future as a ranger, dangled by his approval.

Later, other interns, Tom and Lisa, cornered me.

"Hey, Sarah, you're still coming, right? Mark said you were thinking of bailing."

"It' s going to be great!" Lisa chirped, oblivious.

I felt trapped. My foreknowledge was a wall between me and everyone else.

The day of departure arrived. I packed, my stomach in knots.

We gathered at the main ranger station, a small group of interns and Mark.

Then I saw her.

Emily. Standing beside Mark, a small backpack at her feet.

She avoided my eyes.

Mark beamed. "Good news, everyone! Emily was so keen to see some real ranger work, I invited her along. A little family trip, eh, Sarah?"

A public ambush.

"Mark, we talked about this. She's not coming," I said, my voice tight.

"Oh, Sarah, don't be such a spoilsport," Mark said, his tone light but his eyes challenging.

Emily stepped forward, her face set in a look of defiance I knew Mark had coached.

"You don't control me, Sarah!" she shouted, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Ever since Mom and Dad died, you try to run my life! I'm sick of it!"

Then, in a gesture that felt like a physical blow, she pulled something from her pocket.

The small, antique brass compass.

Our grandfather' s. I' d given it to her after our parents' funeral. A piece of our history, our family.

She threw it on the ground.

It smashed against a rock, the glass shattering, the needle bending.

"I don't need your old junk!" she cried. "Mark's taking care of me now!"

The other interns stared, embarrassed.

I looked at Mark. He had a faint, triumphant smile.

I was cornered. If I refused now, I' d look unhinged.

My impossible knowledge, my first death, I couldn't speak of it.

I had to go.

The past was repeating itself, step by agonizing step. But this time, I was awake.